Ex-Husband’s Regret by Evelyn M.M

Chapter 0490

Mia's words still continued to ring in my head even as I headed for my car. The truth had been brutal. It wasn't easy to swallow the bitter pill, but swallow it I must.

Instead of peeling out of the parking lot like I usually do, I just sit in my car and allow the tears to fall. I couldn't stop them even if I wanted to. The space fills with the sounds of my cries. My sobs are torn from deep within as the weight of all my actions crash me.

My head falls against the steering wheel because I can no longer hold it up. I wore my shame like a second skin. It was embedded deep inside me like a fucking tattoo.

Why did I let it get that far? Why did I hurt him like that? Why did I allow my selfishness to taint the bond I could have had with Gunner?

Why. Why. Why?

If I knew one day I would long to hold Gunner in my arms. To be in his life. To have him call me mom. I would have held on to him like he was a lifeline... But that's the thing about hindsight. It's a bitch.

My lips tremble as I sob. Guilt racks my body, jolting me as if I've been electrocuted. I want to scream. I want to hit something. I want to curl up in a ball and just die. It hurts. It fucking hurts and I don't know how to stop the pain.

tear dam is empty. I'm not sure how long I stay there crying, but when I'm calmer, I turn the ignition and drive

eyes out for the last couple of

even begin? It would be easier if it had been a couple of months' worth

first walk. His first day of school. His first time saying mommy. I missed his first birthday, and those since then.

the things I could have done. Thinking of how I could have handled things differently. I regret a lot

trouble. I was so lost in my head that it was a wonder didn't

estate, the iron gates closing behind me with a kind of finality I feel is reflected in my life right now. Part of me feels like there isn't hope. That I should give up on my relationship with Gunner. That it's too late to fix what I broke. The stronger part of me, though, doesn't want to

front of the house and

expected," mom's warm voice

hug her for dear life. I'm past thirty years old, but at this moment, I feel like a little girl who needs her mommy to make things right in

wasn't easy" she whispers while smoothing down

my tears had finally dried, but I was wrong. Once again, they begin pouring,

to the couch. Once there, she pushes us down on it, before pulling my head down. I ball up in